


Super Hereos

by queer_fae



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brief Suicide Contemplation, Bullying, Canon Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Howie is gonna fuck a zombie, M/M, Period Typical Transphobia, Rated E for later chapters, Roommates, Seriously don't bind with bandages, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Wild shit happens I swear, gross smut, transphobic slurs, unsafe binding methods, zombie Jason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-06-06 00:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15182894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queer_fae/pseuds/queer_fae
Summary: I've done a lotGod knows I've triedTo find the truthI've even liedBut all I knowIs down inside I'mBleedingAnd superheroesCome to feastTo taste the fleshNot yet deceasedAnd all I knowIs still the beast isFeeding





	1. Wild and Untamed Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Description of Howie: Short (5'5 ish), on the chubbier side, light brown hair, horn rimmed glasses, t shirt and jeans with a customized olive green bomber jacket and a pair of old Converse

The woods were Howie's quiet place.

Well, quiet being a relative term. The calls of birds, the wind whistling through the trees, and the chirps of crickets towards the evening could all be heard in the calm patch of wilderness he currently found himself in.

He came here when he needed to think or just to be alone, feeding his nicotine addiction with the Lucky Strikes he had become so fond of as he admired the scenery.

Sometimes, like now, he would find himself sitting at the end of a dilapidated dock just outside of the woods. The dock had belonged to some camp that now sat abandoned on account of it's bloody history. 

Apparently, some woman had gone mad and killed several teenagers seeking retribution for her deceased son, who had apparently drowned in the very lake he now observed.

The body of the poor boy was never found.

Sometimes, Howie would imagine the pale, unmoving form of the boy lying on the slimy lake floor, an icy blanket of dark water keeping him from escaping his final resting place.

It was at these times that he could feel eyes looking back at him from the gently rolling water.

He shook those sinister thoughts from his head, running a hand through his honey brown hair.

Thoughts like those were the last thing he needed right now.

The reason he had gone out there that night was to escape.

At the age of 20, Howie's life was on a downward spiral.

He still lived with his parents who were extremely vocal with their displeasure with his lifestyle. 

The thought of moving away from them crossed his mind every day, but then he was reminded of his practically nonexistent savings that were a result of working minimum wage at a diner and having to give nearly all of his money to his parents as rent.

That day they had been especially aggressive in their criticisms of him. He decided that the abuse was bad enough that it warranted leaving for a while, so he barricaded himself in his room, packed a ratty old backpack full of clothing and a few dollars for food, grabbed his old sleeping bag and crawled out the window in favor of camping out in the woods for a night or two.

It was days like this that he contemplated letting himself fall into the cool water below, joining the drowned child in his eternal sleep. 

Howie laid back against the dock, staring up at the midday sky as a wave of tiredness rolled over him.

'Surely a nap couldn't hurt...' he thought as his eyes fluttered shut and he let himself enter a relaxed state, comforted by the warm glow of the sun.

It had to have been less that 20 minutes when he was jarred awake by a shout from directly above him.

His eyes snapped open only to fall on a pack of boys surrounding him and staring down at him, evil grins and sneers adorning their faces as they began to yell slurs at him.

Howie jumped to his feet, pushing past his bullies and walking back into the woods.

He knew these boys all too well. Their harassment had begin back during his senior year of highschool, when he began wearing t-shirts and drainpipe jeans and asked people to start calling him Howie. Even after he graduated, they followed him, shouting slurs after him whenever they spotted him.

That was one of the problems with living in such a small town.

Usually, simply walking away and ignoring their taunts worked, but of course that was when they were in a public space.

Now, there was nobody around.

He hadn't even noticed the quickly approaching footsteps behind him until it was too late.

The first blow landed on the back of his head, causing him to recoil and whip around to face his attackers.

Against his better judgement, Howie threw a punch at the boy in the middle of the pack, their leader. It hit him square in the nose with a loud crunch, causing blood to gush from his face.

The boy stared at him for a brief moment before snarling and hitting back hard, the rest of the posse following suit.

Howie fought back as hard as he could, but as outnumbered as he was the odds were against him. 

He fell to the ground, bruised and bloody, yet still the attacks continued.

Howie curled into the fetal position, fearing that his ribs would be broken on account of the relentless kicks as well as the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest.

Suddenly, it all stopped.

From his position on the ground, he could hear the boys yelling in confusion and fear, before they took off sprinting back towards the woods.

Howie chanced a look up despite his darkening vision. What he saw was something from a horror film.

Towering above him was what appeared to be a man, the term "man" being used loosely however. The thing that stood above him was a 7 foot tall humanoid with decayed black skin that had worn away to the bone in a few places. 

The man/thing/whatever's face was obscured by what appeared to be an old, worn hockey mask. The left edge of it had been broken off to show that the skin of his cheek had rotted away, revealing a row of teeth that formed a wide, sinister grin.

The man's clothes were dripping wet, as if he had been soaking in the lake just before scaring off the band of bullies. 

Actually, that was probably exactly what he was doing.

One of the more odd things about him (which is REALLY saying something) was the chain wrapped around his torso, as if someone had attempted to hold him somewhere. Obviously, this person had failed.

The last thing Howie saw before going unconscious was the monster bending down and reaching for him. 

He knew he wouldn't be waking up.

\--

When he woke up, he was shocked to say the least.

Upon sight of the thing, anyone would assume that they were about to be gored to death or eaten or something.

But no, here he was, still breathing, albeit with a bit of pain.

Not to mention he was in an entirely different place now.

The room around him was dark on account of nightfall, but thankfully illuminated by the gentle glow of various candles scattered about the room.

The space was dusty, clearly unused for quite a while. Cobwebs of all shapes and sizes clung to the ceiling. Howie's skin crawled when he thought about the spiders that made said cobwebs.

The floors were concrete, and the walls were unfinished. It was clearly not meant to be lived in. Perhaps a work shed of some sort?

The room was mostly empty, the few occupants being various equipment ranging from paint cans all the way to an old rowboat that was most definitely no longer seaworthy. 

It dawned on him that the building may have been used for storage for the old camp, assuming that's where he was.

The place where he was sitting was a nest of various blankets and pillows, some old and tattered and some brand new. 

Suddenly, he remembered the bandages around his chest, and he fumbled to get his shirt off to remove his bindings and check the state of his ribs.

When he pulled up the article of clothing to reveal his chest, he was, once again, shocked to find that the bandages had been removed. 

A cold surge of realization hit him. 

The monster must have removed them.

He shivered thinking about that thing's cold, slimy hands anywhere near him, let alone on his chest.

Giving himself a quick once over, he made another discovery.

He had sustained multiple wounds during the fight, but now he found them to be cleaned and bandaged.

What in the fresh hell was going on here? 

"Hello?" he called out, his voice raspy from sleep and thirst. He attempted to stand only to be knocked back on his ass by a wave of pain.

The door to the small building flung open, making Howie jump in surprise and agitating his bruises.

Through the door walked the creature, nearly hitting his head on the top of the doorway due to his height.

The two had an awkward moment of staring, before Howie broke the silence with a casual "Hey."

The monster tilted his head at the man's greeting, understandably unsure what to make of him. 

Hell, Howie wasn't sure what to make of this hulking creature himself. He incited terror within him, but at the same time the thing seemed to show some sort of kindness towards him, seeing as he'd scared off his tormentors and even taken him here to patch him up.

Howie noticed a half full bottle of water in the thing- no, man's partially fleshless hand.

"I-is that for me?" he stuttered nervously, pointing weakly at the bottle of liquid.

Surprisingly, the zombie-like man nodded, taking a few steps forward and extending his arm to offer the bottle.

Howie downed the liquid in under a minute, not caring where it might have come from. 

The two sat for a moment longer in silence before, once again, Howie broke it.

"Umm... I'm Howie by the way. What's your name?"

He didn't expect the rotting man to speak, and he didn't. Instead, he bent down and with one finger he drew something in the dirt and dust covered floor.

When he was finished, the young man glanced over it, trying to make sense of what had been traced there.

He realized that it was letters, and they spelled a name.

J a s o n

He smiled at the monster of a man.

That was how it began.


	2. Over at the Frankenstein Place

Living with Jason just kinda happened.

Howie hadn't planned on it of course, he figured that Jason would just let him go after he'd recovered.

When his pain had receded enough to where he was able to walk, he explored the area a little bit, with the zombie man watching over him like a hawk the whole time.

Whenever he strayed too far for the giant's liking he would gently usher the young man back into the designated safe zone.

Weeks went by, and then months. Howie just never left.

One thing about Jason that Howie learned of pretty quickly was his bloodlust.

Sometimes the screams of terrified people meeting their end would ring out in the otherwise calm night air of Camp Crystal Lake, and on those same nights Jason would return to him covered in fresh blood.

It didn't exactly take a genius to put two and two together.

Howie was... Surprisingly OK with this revelation. 

Maybe it was because the thought of being the only one able to befriend a murderer made him feel like he was truly something special.

Or maybe it was because he worried that showing any rejection towards Jason may result in his death.

Either way, over the months the two spent together they formed an unusual bond.

Despite the circumstances of their relationship Howie had to admit that it was better than his situation at his parents' house.

Jason didn't verbally berate him, mainly because he didn't speak, but Howie had the feeling that even if he could he wouldn't.

Jason didn't judge him or expect anything from him but his companionship. 

The undead man's feelings toward human interaction were rather confounding. He spent his days and nights ridding the campgrounds of any trespassers who dared set foot there, yet he carried himself as someone who yearned for the friendship and care of another.

Was this loneliness why he had chosen Howie? But the young man had been like any other intruder to Jason's home, so why had he not been killed on the spot?

There were so many things he didn't know about Jason. He had so many questions, yet no way for them to be answered.

Maybe that's why, when Jason allowed him to venture into town as he trusted him enough to return, when he passed a yard sale and spotted a book on ASL, he had no hesitation in forking over the 15 cents for the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops sorry for the short chapter


	3. Dammit Jason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey OC character backstory!

Jason was initially reluctant at the thought of learning sign language, perhaps because he worried he wouldn't be able to master it, but upon seeing how excited Howie was about the idea, he accepted the gift and the two began reading through it together.

Within a few hours Jason had the basics down, and was signing his own name, Howie's, and one that Howie didn't recognize, Pamela.

It was another day and a half before Jason was able to relay his story.

Howie couldn't hold back the tears as he heard of Jason's childhood and his own experiences with bullying. It was clear now why Jason had chosen to save him that day. He knew what it was like to be berated and harmed on account of something he had no control over.

When he learned of Jason's first death all those years ago, the pieces really began to fit together. 

He had had a strong hunch that this was the same Jason that drowned as a young boy, only to return as the killer he knew now, but he wanted to hear it first hand from the zombie.

Finally having all of his questions answered was lifting, even making him feel closer to the undead man.

That's why he began to relay his own story to Jason.

He talked about his early childhood. He was the youngest of two children, his brother Adam being four years his senior.

Adam was the golden child without a doubt. While Howie was sure that his parents loved him, they were always gushing about Adam's achievements and how he was the perfect son.

Despite this, Howie didn't dislike his older brother by any means. In fact, he adored and admired him, vowing to be just like him when he grew up, a notion his parents found ridiculous considering his gender.

Adam was the first person that Howie confided in about his gender insecurity. To his delight he was met with nothing but support, the older even giving him some old clothing.

Howie was 14 when Adam joined the military. 

Right before the older boy walked out the door, he gave Howie his coveted bomber jacket.

What made this jacket so special was all the patches sewn into it, as well as a few embroidered phrases and dates that were special to the older brother.

"Take care if this for me until I get back." Adam said as he handed him the jacket, tussling the younger boy's hair, flashing him a sincere smile, and walking out the door.

That was the last time Howie ever saw his older brother.

He had gotten home from school one day to find his parents huddled on the couch, sobbing.

He knew without a doubt what had happened.

He went up to his room, wrapped himself in the large jacket and cried himself to sleep.

Two years later, when things had returned to some semblance of normal, Howie came out to his parents as transgendered.

Suffice to say they didn't take it well.

His mother screamed about how he was going to hell for going against God's plan, how she wished that she'd never had him, and threats of sending him to a mental ward, meanwhile his father just looked on in silence, a disappointed look on his face.

Being a mere 16 at the time, Howie had no choice but to live with them until he could move out.

Years later, due to his financial struggles, he was still unable to get away from such a toxic environment.

He expressed his gratitude towards Jason for taking him in, the tears from earlier making a reappearance.

Jason stood up from where he had been sitting, walked to Howie's own seat, and to the young man's surprise, wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

The embrace lasted for a long while, both participants silent as they revelled in their togetherness.

They were home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, shorter chapter, but it's a bit of development for Howie and another step forward into this twisted tale of gore and romance


	4. Science Fiction Double Feature

Life with Jason actually became some semblance of normal.

Howie got a job at a gas station within walking distance of the camp and began to provide for himself and undead man, using his small but helpful paychecks to purchase a  
few commodities for their storage shed home.

Thankfully, second hand shops were able to accommodate his needs and low budget.

Over time he purchased the basics. New bedding, some dishes, a few articles of clothing as the rest of his was left at his parents' house who had likely thrown his stuff away by now,  
a portable burner for cooking so that Jason wouldn't have to keep lighting the fire pit for him because he was afraid of burning his fingers, and even a fan  
for when the nights got unbearably warm.

He was able to get said fan running thanks to an old generator he had found while exploring the abandoned campgrounds. With a little elbow grease the thing began working again as if  
it was brand new.

The next furnishing on his list was a fridge. He had been eating nothing but canned food heated in a fire pit that Jason always had to light for him because he was always terrified of  
burning his fingers. It would be nice to be able to have co

His plan was to save up and only spend money on food or in emergencies. 

Unfortunately, as he walked past the storefront on his way to do his grocery shopping, the ancient TV that looked like it had come off the manufacturing line  
circa 1950 had other plans for him.

He mentally chastised himself for even considering splurging on something that wasn't neccesary at the moment, but he was already walking through the door and pulling out his wallet.

Hauling that damn thing all the way back to Crystal Lake was the worst thing he had ever done.

'What's that?' Jason signed as Howie set the box onto an old desk and began to mess with it.

"It's a TV. Pretty damn old one too. 1950's or so I'd say." the young man replied as he connected the power cord to one of the outlets.

It reminded the zombie of the one his mother had when he was young. He had spent a lot of time sitting in front of the screen while the other children played outside.

Shaking the bad memories from his mind, Jason plopped onto the bed and watched as his young companion attempted to get the TV working.

At last, after fiddling with the rabbit ear antennas, the flickering, black and white image of a news anchor appeared in screen and with a little more adjustment  
the picture came in clear as day.

Howie cheered at his newfound victory, prompting the undead man to clap gently for his friend.

Chuckling at Jason's antics, he began to twist the dial on the TV in search of something watchable.

The screen flipped between various shows, commercials and movies, until finally landing on something Howie recognized. The image of a young woman and an older man  
sitting in a cave setting, being entertained by a caveman. When he realized what he was looking at, Howie gasped in delight, causing the undead man sitting behind him to jump slightly.

"Eegah! God, I love this movie!" he exclaimed, falling onto the space next to Jason.

The two men watched the movie in relative silence, save for the occasional chuckle from the young man in response to a particular cheesy scene.

Not long after the caveman was shot dead, his body landing in the pool and the "end" title fading in over the floating corpse, it was announced that another movie  
would be coming on, "The Brain That Wouldn't Die".

An idea suddenly popped into Howie's head. He leapt from his seat and made a grab for his backpack. He reached in and pulled out the pan of Jiffy Pop he  
had purchased earlier that day.

He headed over to the old desk where the burner was currently sitting, beckoning the undead man over to him.

Jason observed as he moved the pan in circles against the hot plate, confused as to the purpose. That is, until it began to pop. 

The zombie watched in fascination as the young man prepared the popcorn and poured it into a large metal bowl and carried it back to their place on the bed.

Despite his affinity for god awful movies, about a quarter way into the movie Howie had become rather bored. Only so much you could handle in a day he supposed.  
He glanced over at Jason, who's gaze was currenty focused intently on the black and white screen. He plucked a kernel of the crunchy snack from the bowl and,  
with a silent snicker, tossed it at the undead giant.

The corn hit Jason on the side of the head, prompting no reaction for a moment before he turned to the young man beside him, a presumably bewildered expression going  
unseen beneath the mask. He tilted his head, and Howie simply flashed him a stupid grin.

After a moment of thought, the zombie gently grabbed one of the small kernels himself and chucked it back at the young man, hitting him square on the nose.

This meant war.

The following minutes consisted of a flurry of salty snack foods being flung back and forth between the two men, accompanied by Howie's laughter and even a few  
raspy chuckles from Jason.

Eventually, the younger man fell back against the bed, his arms raised in surrender. Jason promptly joined him, and the two stared up at the ceiling, watching the  
shadows flicker across, a comfortable silence resting between them.

Howie turned toward the other man, a gentle smile gracing his face as he admired him in this vulnerable position. 

A pang of fondness resonated within his chest as he thought of all the time he'd spent with Jason leading up to this moment. He'd treaured every moment and  
would continue to for as long as he could.

A blush crept onto his face as he thought of the potential future with the man as well as... Things that would likely never happen between them.

His crush on Jason had been a fairly long standing one, starting not long after he had been kidnapped. He knew with relative certainty that his feelings would  
never be reciprocated, but he was happy enough just living here with him, his romantic feelings a little secret of his own.

Feeling safe and warm in his own little world, the familiar heaviness soon settled over his eyes and before too long he drifted off into the familiar embrace  
of slumber.

\--

The sun reflected off of the turbulant water of Crystal Lake, the glare forcing him to squint at the flailing silohuette of a young boy causing massive ripples  
in the middle of the seemingly endless body of water.

Howie called out to the child, swimming closer and desperately trying to reach him. But no matter how close he got, the boy was always just out of arm's reach.

Suddenly, it all disappeared. He was no longer floating in the cool water, instead sitting on a tacky old couch like one his grandmother had owned. The room  
around him was a vision straight out of a Homes and Gardens magazine from the 50's. All of the furniture was outdated, yet incredibly clean, with not a speck  
of dust in sight.

"I'm sorry I took so long, dear." a woman's voice said, shaking him from his initial shock.

He turned to the source of the voice, revealing an older woman with light hair in a perm wearing a light blue sweater.

"W-who are you?" Howie stuttered. The woman placed a teacup with a saucer onto his lap before sitting next to him with her own cup.

"I hope you don't mind earl grey." she said with a warm smile before taking a sip of the steaming liquid.

"Who are you?" he repeated, a bit more confident this time.

The woman returned her cup to the platter with a gentle clink.

"I'm Mrs Voorhees. You can call me Pamela if you'd like. I've been meaning to meet you for a long time now, Howie."

Howie gaped at her. No. It couldn't be. Could it?

"You're Jason's..." he began, but the words died in his throat. OF course she knew what he meant and nodded her confirmation.

He had so many questions for her. Was this the afterlife? What exactly is Jason? Could he have her blessing to marry her son?

Instead he settled on "why am I here?"

Pamela sighed, looking into the amber colored tea in her cup before looking back at him with a sad smile.

"I'm sure you know it already, but my Jason is a lonely boy, always has been..." she paused for another sip of tea. "When you came along, I was worried at first.  
I feared that you may break my poor boy's heart even more. But when you stayed, I knew you were special." her smile returned.

Even the thought of leaving Jason sent pangs of pain through his heart.

"Howie, I brought you here to ask you to do something that even I failed in." Pamela continued with a tear in her eye.

"I need you to watch over my Jason, to never leave his side, to always be there for him." 

He didn't even have to think before he answered.

He would do anything for Jason.

Pamela's warm, motherly smile was the last thing he remembered before he awoke to the warm light of the morning sun.

Immediately, he leapt out of bed, his promise from the night before echoing in his head.

Jason was nowhere to be found that morning.


	5. The Sword of Damocles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sword of Damocles is hanging over my head
> 
> And I've got the feeling someone's gonna be cutting the thread...

Howie looked everywhere inside the abandoned camp but Jason was nowhere to be found.

A rational person would assume that Jason had simply gone out for whatever reason, but the truth was there was nothing rational about the killer. 

Besides, without fail Jason always came when he called, even if he was miles away or at the bottom of the lake. It was as if he had some sort of special sense when it came to the young man. Actually that was probably exactly the case.

Jason didn't like him leaving the campground except for work and running errands, but Howie had the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong.

His search led him to what used to be known as Packanack before the murders.

The place had closed down after the killings and hasn't opened it's doors in many years.

When he came to the entrance of the run down camp, the first thing he noticed was the faded and chipping sign that once read "Packanack Lodge" was now replaced with one in pristine condition with the words "Camp Evergreen" painted in blocky letters across the plank of wood.

Oh shit.

This explained why Jason had left without a word.

Even after all of the death surrounding the land these people kept returning time and time again, only for the outcome to always be the same.

Howie entered the camp, sticking to the cover of trees and now fixed up buildings to do some snooping on the unwelcome inhabitants.

As he rounded a corner, he had to immediately duck out of sight as he spotted the counselors hanging out at a few picnic tables in front of what appeared to be the main cabin, laughing and hollering as they did what young adults do when left alone together.

Having seen enough, he turned to leave but was interrupted by a cold hand sliding itself over his mouth while another grabbed him by the arm and spun him around to face the owner of the appendages, none other than Jason Voorhees.

He was pulled into an empty shed before finally the hand was removed from his mouth.

"Jesus Jason! Don't do that!" Howie whisper-yelled.

What are you doing here? The zombie signed.

"Looking for you!" he responded, mildly irritated. "You scared me by running off like that!"

Jason's head drooped sadly at being scolded, easily breaking through any ill feelings Howie held for the man in that moment.

Sighing, he reached up and placed a hand on the giant's shoulder.

"Just... Let me know next time, yeah?" he said in a much less harsh tone.

Jason nodded eagerly in agreement.

God, the ways in which the undead man could melt his heart was astonishing.

Jason led him back to their home, agreeing to stay with him until nightfall, which was when he would make his move on the unsuspecting counselors.

They passed the time by playing a few board games that Howie had gotten just for Jason. He may or may not have let him win every time just to see that adorable excited reaction.

\--

Howie hadn't even remembered falling asleep.

Yet there he was, floating in the dark yet comfortable void of unconsciousness.

Suddenly, he heard it. Someone calling his name.

Pamela?

He tried to open his mouth to call to her but found that he couldn't move any part of his body.

Suddenly, he could see. 

He was in the newly refurbished camp, although it looked ransacked. Broken windows, doors, and even a Jason-sized hole in the wall of one of the cabins.

All understandable for a killing spree.

Bodies littered the ground, all killed in various gory ways.

Then he could see a group of survivors, all of them armed and quickly approaching the back of a familiar zombie.

What he failed to notice before he snapped awake however was the shotgun in the hands of one of the counselors.

\--

Howie sat bolt upright, gasping for air as he looked around frantically.

"Jason!" he muttered to himself as he leapt from the mattress, not even bothering to put shoes on before he ran out the door and in the direction of the camp.

He sprinted all the way back to Evergreen, his chest burning for air but the need to reach Jason even stronger.

He arrived at the very edge of the camp, staying where he was at least partially obscured by the foliage. 

Deja vu.

The sight from his dream lie before him.

Every detail was the same... All the way down to the group of teens quickly closing in on his beloved.

"Jason!" without thinking he ran from his hiding spot and straight for the zombie, his cries catching the giant's attention.

Unfortunately it also attracted the attention of the armed survivors.

He didn't see the shotgun in his dream.

The ear shattering boom rang out through the night air, followed by a yelp of surprise and pain.

The led pellets tore through his skin and organs like paper, shattering a rib or two along the way.

The impact sent him flying back, causing him to hit the ground hard.

The pain was white hot and unbearable, worse than anything he'd ever felt in his life.

Her always wondered if his brother had suffered after being shot.

He had his answer.

\--

Jason's head snapped in the direction of the familiar voice.

No... What was he doing here?

He was about to make a grab for the approaching boy when the sound of a gunshot could be heard from behind him.

Too late.

Howie lie on the ground now, panting and gurgling as blood sputtered from his mouth.

He wouldn't have heard his stalkers until it was too late.

His Howie had saved him.

But at what cost?

The boy's murderers ran in the other direction, likely back towards town.

For the first time he felt as if he couldn't care less.

Jason dropped to his knees, gently pulling Howie's barely breathing body into his arms. 

He reached for the mask covering his face and pulled it off.

\--

Howie could feel the darkness closing in now. He knew he wouldn't live much longer.

He watched in amazement as Jason removed the hockey mask.

Not once in the time he'd lived with the zombie had he seen his face.

His hand weakly reached for Jason's face, his strength failing him before he could so much as graze the cool skin with his fingertips.

So close.

Thankfully, the giant closed the distance, the palm of his hand finally caressing the curve of his rotting cheek.

There were so many things that he wanted to say.

You're so handsome.

I'm sorry.

I don't want to leave you.

I love you.

But all that came out were the sounds of him choking on his own blood.

And then he went still.

Howie McCullough was dead.

Jason had known for a long time that god had abandoned him.

But giving him someone who he loved and who loved him and then taking him away?

Did he really deserve it?

Rage bubbled deep within him, with it a red haze that obscured his vision.

He had never felt this angry. Not even when he sought revenge for him abd mother.

Even the sound of her voice faded into nothingness as he reached for a bloodied axe that had been discarded with an earlier kill.

He faced the direction of the small town nearby.

Everyone was going to pay now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the end of dear Howie?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Lol nah.


	6. Time Warp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blackness would hit me, and the void would be calling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I wish this was written better :') )

Darkness. That's all there was.

He was conscious and he could feel himself floating through the cold and unending void, but he could see nothing, and he suspected that there was nothing to see.

Was this it? Was this the afterlife? Was he doomed to remain here forever with nothing but his own thoughts?

Suddenly, way off in the distance, there was a light. It was tiny, no bigger than a pinhole, but it was something. A spark of excitement flared within him. He desperately began making his way toward the miniscule speck of illumination.

The light itself seemed to grow larger, as if attempting to meet him as well.

And then, just like that, his eyes opened to the familiar sight of a popcorn ceiling.

Howie sat up to see that his surroundings were that of a bedroom. Against the wall to the left of the bed sat a dresser, and to either side of him were two night stands, the one to his right holding up a lamp. 

All of the furniture and the wallpaper was outdated by about 30 or so years. 

Then it dawned on him. The only person he knew with such furnishings was...

He leapt out of the bed, stumbling a bit as his legs felt like jelly, and rushed out of the open door and into a short hallway.

The hallway gave way to a familiar living room where an older woman sat in a large old recliner, a cup of tea with a saucer clutched within her weathered hands.

Pamela smiled as her eyes fell upon the young man, the lines on her face evidence of a long life filled with many expressions, not all good.

"It's good to see you again dear," she said cheerfully as Howie took a seat adjacent to her. He could tell, however, that the joy in her voice was forced.

"I failed..." he stated monotonously, his eyes staring blankly at the floor.

Pamela's smile became one of sadness and understanding.

"You did your best dear. I asked a lot of you, and I'm sorry for that." she went silent for a moment, her face becoming unreadable.

When she spoke again, her voice, once soft and jovial, became unsure.

"If you'd like, there is a way to send you back..."

Howie's eyes leapt from their downward gaze, now wide as moons as they fell upon the mother of the man he loved, someone who he believed he'd let down.

"Whatever it is, I'll do it." he answered quickly.

Pamela's face grew concerned. "You should know, it won't be easy..." she paused again, as if finding difficulty finding the words to express herself.

Howie almost wanted to rush her, but he knew it would do him no good, so he waited patiently.

At last, she found her voice once again. Her words sending a shiver up the young man's spine.

"If I send you back, well... You'll be just like Jason."

While he adored the hulking zombie, the state he was in didn't exactly seem ideal.

Roaming the grounds, neither dead nor alive, slaughtering any poor soul who dare trespass.

Could he do something like that?

"What would my purpose be?" he asked.

"To protect him," she answered; "to be there for him..."

Her smile returned.

"To love him."

Cheeks burning in embarrassment, Howie swallowed hard.

"I'll do it."

Pamela got up from her seat, closing the minor distance between them, and kneeled before him. She took his head in her hands, leaned in close until their foreheads were touching, and whispered;

"Save my little boy."

And then, for the second time in only a few hours, everything faded into that familiar blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no updates in forever. Life caught up with me. The good news is I can probably wrap this up in 2 or 3 more chapters. I'm thinking about adding a bonus chapter after everything is said and done but I'm still hashing things out.
> 
> Also!! I'm working on a Dead By Daylight story. You'll either love it or hate it but I'm going to put my best effort into it. Let's just say it's more or less going to be pure smut.


	7. I'm Coming Home (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where in the timeline this fic takes place, I'd say a couple years after Jason Lives, and it basically ignores New Blood.

Howie awoke with a start, sitting up from his lying position, the sheet falling from his face and into his lap. Immediately he noticed a pressure in his lungs. He began to cough hard, causing clots of black, coagulated blood mixed with lead pellets to spew into his open hand and the pristine sheet covering the lower half of his body.

When his coughing fit ended, he wiped the blood and spit from his mouth before using the now sullied sheet to clean the blood from his hands.

Tossing the sheet to the side, he swung his feet over the side of the metal table his body had been resting on, taking but a moment to realize where he was.

The morgue.

Remembering his gruesome demise, he clutched at his chest, searching for any remnants of the wound. He found none, save for the many rips and tears from the shotgun blast, and a large stain of mostly dried blood.

To his dismay, his coveted jacked had not been spared from the spill of the metallic fluid. Hopefully, it was nothing a little hydrogen peroxide couldn't fix.

His grief was cut short by the sound of a door closing behind him.

He turned to see a young man in scrubs gaping at him, eyes wide as if he had seen a ghost. Well, in a way, he had.

The two remained in unmoving, eyes locked together, for mere moment.

"Hey." Howie offered, maintaining a tone of casualty, as if seeing a previously dead man on his feet was an every day occurrence.

A bolt of terror seemingly striking the poor man, he made for the door.

But Howie, quickly discovering his new abilities, was faster.

He had a decision to make here. Even if he tried to convince the man to keep his status as undead under wraps, once he left the morgue he had no way of knowing if he would tell anyway.

Howie had no idea where Jason was or if he was OK. He had no time to be detained and taken in for questioning.

This young man was standing in between him and his mission.

Taking the man firmly by the collar of his shirt, Howie drug him toward the metal table he had awoken on, where a tray of instruments for performing autopsies sat beside it.

He grabbed a scalpel, placed his hand over the man's mouth and, with one swift movement, sliced open his throat.

The man sank to his knees, desperately grasping at the bleeding wound on his throat, the wet gurgles of a dying man echoing throughout the room until he finally collapsed onto his side, unmoving.

Nausea bubbled up in Howie's stomach as he looked upon the still warm corpse, having second thoughts about his actions.

_He would have gotten in our way, dear. We need to find Jason before it's too late. We can't afford any delays._

The familiar voice echoed through Howie's head, snapping him out of his state of regret.

_Don't worry dear. I won't be in your head forever._

Pamela's reassurance made him realize that she could hear what he was thinking. This revelation was why he wasn't surprised when she answered the next question on his mind.

_You're right. You can hear me now because Jason can no longer. Something has happened that has caused him to stop listening to me. We have to find him before something happens. My sweet boy can never die, but he can be hurt very badly._

Howie heaved the dead man over his shoulder, fresh blood now regrettably mingling with the dried stain already on his clothes, but nevertheless still amazed at his newfound strength.

He placed the body onto the autopsy table, arranging his limbs so that he lie straight. 

He glanced at the blood-covered sheet that had once covered his own lifeless body, but realized that it would be a dead giveaway.

_Check in the closet, dear._

Heeding Pamela's suggestion, he opened the closet to find a few clean sheets and even some cleaning supplies.

He grabbed a clean sheet and neatly draped it over the body, now turning his attention to the puddle of blood on the tile floor.

He returned to the closet and grabbed the bottle of bleach spray and a roll of paper towels.

After using nearly three quarters of the roll, the floor no longer showed any trace of the red liquid it had previously been tarnished with.

Stashing the damp, deep red stack of paper towels as well as the dirtied sheet in the back of the closet, Howie made his way to the door, opening it a crack and waiting for the right moment to make his escape.

\--

After sneaking around the morgue, Howie soon found himself in what appeared to be a locker room, filled with spare lab coats and scrubs. 

A plan began to formulate within his mind as he eyed the garments and, with Pamela egging him on, he put into action.

The scrubs slipped over his clothes quite well, and the long white coat helped conceal his jacket.

He stood before the door, psyching himself up to do what he had to do.

_Just walk straight for the front door. Keep your head down, don't look at or talk to anyone. Just keep walking until you're out of here._

Howie adjusted his glasses, swallowed hard, and confidently twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

He walked in a straight line down the hallway, swerving only occasionally to avoid a passing employee, maintaining his downward gaze the whole time.

As he passed one pair of chatting workers, he overheard a conversation that nearly made him stop in his tracks.

"Did you hear about the killings?"

"Oh, you mean the massacre last night over at Camp Blood?"

"No! The one at the boat rental place a few miles off the camp! It was called in this morning, apparently some poor bastard went in and found the ladies who owned it butchered!"

"Gee, do you think the two are connected?"

The rest of the conversation trailed off as Howie went further and further away from the two.

_It must have been Jason. Oh no... He's heading towards town!_

Howie swallowed hard. He knew Jason could handle his own against a few mostly unarmed people, but against a whole town filled with police officers and armed citizens?

As he finally reached the front of the building, he overheard a man arguing with the woman at the front desk as well as a police officer. He decided to linger for just a moment longer.

"I'm telling you, it's Jason! It has to be! I never finished him off and he's back!"

"I've told you, the body we brought in was that of some tranny, not Jason Voorhees. Just some nutcase trying to recreate the massacre is all." an irritated woman said to the man.

A sly smile crept it's way onto Howie's face. They were really pinning it all on him.

Finally having enough, the officer cuffed the man before beginning his escort to the officer's vehicle.

Howie turned around at the right moment, causing him to slam into the young man and allowing him to get a good look at him.

He bore a slightly disheveled appearance, his light brown hair fallen out of place from it's usual combed look. This, however, hardly took away from his rather attractive boyish features.

He wore a well-loved denim jacked with faux fur lapels over a flannel shirt. He stood a few inches taller than Howie, causing the latter to have to tilt his head upward to meet the man's panicked pale green eyes.

"Sorry about that." Howie said with a foreboding smile. They held their gaze for a moment longer before the man was hauled out the door by the officer with an exasperated grunt of "Let's go, Jarvis."

Howie slid the man's keys into his pocket as he watched them leave, feeling but a pang of guilt, as well as another feeling he couldn't quite place.

It was strange, he felt a connection to the man... Jarvis, as the officer had called him. Maybe, in another life, they could have something together. 

But his feelings for Jason were far stronger than ones elicited by a brief meeting with a stranger. 

After being shaken from his thoughts by Pamela, he made his way out the door and into the parking lot. He spotted an old pickup truck which had definitely seen better days. With a sneaking suspicion that this was the man's vehicle, Howie slipped the keys out of their place in his pocket and tried inserting the big one into the lock on the truck's door.

Bingo.

He hopped into the passenger seat and buckled himself in. As he went to put the key in the ignition, he noticed something on the dashboard.

A police scanner.

Double bingo.

He would easily be able to track Jason's trail of bloodshed with it.

Starting the vehicle, he felt a spark of hope in his chest. A life with Jason was within reach.

He just hoped he remembered how to drive a stick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't initially planning on having Tommy Jarvis make an appearance, but here we are. Ngl, I'm considering writing a sequel after this story is all said and done, where Tommy will return and play a major role. We'll see where it goes from here.

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, any nasty comments will be deleted :)


End file.
